Damaged
by AlessNox
Summary: Its a rough reunion for Sherlock and John after John's wedding but things change when Sherlock gets injured saving John's life. /Slash/ A sequel to the story "Moving" Sherlock/John John/Mary. STARCROSSED II (an updated version can be found at Archiveofourown. org/works/676818/chapters/1239423 )
1. Chapter 1

1. An explosive meeting

John felt strange using the key to enter his old apartment. It had been five months since he had moved out, and this was his first time back. He had tried to give Mrs Hudson the key when he had moved out, but she had insisted that he keep it.

"You know Sherlock." She had said, "If he gets into one of his moods, you'll be needing that key."

So far he had not needed it. Sherlock and he had worked on a few cases together but after the wedding Sherlock had stopped calling him for help. John had come today at Lestrade's request to get a certain item of evidence from Sherlock's apartment.

"I'd do another drug raid," Greg had said, "But I don't think Sherlock would make it past one, if you know what I mean. It's just that since you've gone, he's started experimenting again, and smoking. If you could just drop by and get him to give us the notebook, we can sort this out without any fuss."

"I'll see what I can do." John had said then, but now standing outside, 221B John was nervous. He hesitated with his door on the handle. He knocked as he opened the door.

"Hello! Hello Sherlock! It's John." He said entering.

Sherlock was obviously still on the case. The living room was a mess, and he never cleaned while he was on a case. "It interferes with my thinking time." He would say.

John cautiously stepped over stacks of files and an assortment of different sized left boots strewn carelessly on the floor as he looked for Sherlock. He found the book that Lestrade had asked for on the mantle and slipped it into his pocket.

Unable to see Sherlock in the kitchen or bathroom, he opened the door to Sherlock's room. The smell of smoke overcame him.

"What the hell is all this?" John said turning to see Sherlock sitting against the headboard of his bed smoking a hookah. He turned toward John and breathed out a huge cloud of smoke.

"Oh John. I didn't hear you come in." Sherlock said taking another large sip, the water bubbling loudly.

John picked up the hookah and looked in it. "What exactly do you have in this?" He asked, "It doesn't smell like tobacco."

Sherlock breathed another cloud out into the room making John cough.

"Pull up a chair John." Sherlock said, " I have enough to share."

John took the tube from Sherlock's hand and carried the hookah to the kitchen to dispose of it.

"Hey!" Sherlock said, "I wasn't done with that yet!"

Sherlock swayed into the kitchen in time to see John emptying the water out in the sink.

"And why are you here anyway?" Sherlock asked, "I thought that you were on your honeymoon."

"That was months ago." John said, "You've started smoking. You know how bad for you it is."

"Smoking helps me think," Sherlock said, "It's a difficult case, and I'm going to need that book you have in your pocket. I'm not done with it yet."

"Lestrade asked me to get it." John said. "It's evidence."

"Exactly why I need to study it." Sherlock said, "And why did Lestrade feel the need to contact you to get it? You're not my keeper anymore. You have your own life, remember?"

John put the hookah away in the cabinet. He walked over to Sherlock who was leaning drowsily against a chair, and helped him sit down. As he sat John's hands touched Sherlock's waist and ran up to his chest. Sherlock gave him a dirty look.

"When was the last time you ate?" John asked, " I can feel your ribs."

Sherlock pushed John's hands away. "You know I never eat on a case. Digesting slows me down. You don't seem to have missed any meals though. You've gained ten pounds since I last saw you."

"No I haven't." John objected.

"Yes you have. Mary must be a good cook." He said, "That or you've been eating out."  
Sherlock leaned his head on the table. John bent over and looked into his eyes.

"Oh Sherlock, you're a bit out of it. Let's lie you down shall we." He helped Sherlock up and walked him back into the living room, "No not in your room. That smells like an opium den. On the couch."

John lowered Sherlock down on the couch and then he took out a small flashlight shining the light in Sherlock's face.

"Too bright!" Sherlock said raising a hand to shield his eyes.

"You've got to take more care of yourself," John said, "You're on the verge of collapse."

"Oh don't worry John," Sherlock said, "The brain is working as good as ever, and that's all that I care about."

"But it is your body that supports the brain." John said.

"Oh my body...I think that you've lost the right to talk about my body, John. You gave all that up, remember. Go ahead and take the book. I've already memorized the relevant passages." Sherlock said drowsily waving him away.

John took the Union Jack pillow and placed it under Sherlock's head pulling his chair over to sit beside him. He dusted the seat with his hand then he pulled the book out of his pocket to take a look.

It was an accounts book. Full of numbers and some kind of shorthand that John couldn't read. "What is this?" John asked.

"A bomber's diary" Sherlock said, "Jacob Carothers. Killed last Tuesday, but not before he made one of the biggest bombs of his career. The amounts and prices of the materials are all there, but what is it for? Why did they kill him for it? Did he try to stop him? It's something big but when and where.? I try to figure it out but the solution eludes me."

"And so you turn to opium?" John chided.

"It lubricates the mind. Helps the thoughts flow more freely." Sherlock replied.

"It's also highly addictive not to mention illegal. Where did you get it?"

"Trivia John trivia. What is it you wanted? Why are you still here? You have what you came for."

"Can't I visit an old friend?" John asked.

Sherlock snorted, "So we are 'old friends' now are we? Perhaps we should go out to the club for a snifter of brandy and a game of billiards. Boring. I must figure out what they mean to blow up. It's got to be in London. But where?"

"Well Guy Fawkes day is coming up, maybe it's the House of Lords." John said jokingly.

Sherlock sat up, "What did you say?"

"I just said that it's almost Guy Fawkes day."

"After that!"

"The House of Lords"

"Of course! Give me that book John!" Sherlock turned the pages and pointed at some of the shorthand scribbles, "Do you see that John? Do you see it?"

"I can't read shorthand." John replied.

"It says undercroft. UNDERCROFT!"

"Yes...and."

"Don't you see? Didn't you study this in school? My God I am alone!" Sherlock yelled.

"I'm sorry," John said, "But my school days are a bit hazy."

Sherlock slammed the book closed and covered his eyes sighing in frustration. "In 1604 Guy Fawkes and a group of conspirators placed gunpowder in an undercroft under the house of Lords. It's the gunpowder plot all over again. John give me your phone, I have to call Lestrade!"

John fished his phone out of his pocket and handed it over. "I suggest that you change clothes before you go. You reek of drugs."

"I change my mind." Sherlock said, "I'm glad you've come. I always think faster when you're around."

Less that thirty minutes later John and Sherlock arrived at a parking garage very near the parliament building followed by a host of police cars.

Sherlock rushed into the garage. "There, through that door." He said running ahead.

John could see a man step out with a gun. "Watch out!" He yelled at Sherlock pushing him behind a column just in time to avoid a gun shot. The police came forward in riot gear, but a small bomb hitting a police car caused them to fall back.

John hadn't expected when he turned the key into Sherlock's apartment just over an hour before that he would soon be having a face-off with a group of bombers carrying ten cases of high-grade plastic explosives outside of the parliament building, but knowing Sherlock, maybe he should have.

They crouched back to back behind a pillar avoiding gunfire. "This is like old-times" John said.," You and me backside to backside trying to avoid getting killed."

"Actually I don't remember trying this position before." Sherlock said, "But I'd be willing to experiment."

John laughed. " I don't suppose we could..." but before he could finish his sentence one of the conspirators rushed out tossing an object their way before jumping from the window of the parking garage to the street below.

Time slowed for John as he saw the box shaped object coming directly at him. Suddenly Sherlock pulled John back by his coat and tossed him behind a concrete barrier. Seconds later an explosion tore through the building surrounding John with light and ear crushing sound. John shook his head. The air was full of choking dust. The roof creaked. He coughed. The pillars around him had been cracked by the explosion. The concrete barrier had saved John. He looked at his hands and saw only minor cuts and abrasions. He looked around, but he was alone behind the barrier. "Sherlock!" he cried.

John rose and searched through the chaos of the dust filled building jumping over chunks of concrete and rebar. The sound of car alarms blaring reminded John of the battlefield. He crouched and ran.

He found him. Sherlock had been tossed to the base of the ramp. His back awash with cuts the side of his face so bloody that John flashed back to that scene at Bart's hospital when he had thought that Sherlock had died. He almost fainted, but this Sherlock had a pulse.

"Get me an ambulance!" John yelled, " And a medical kit right now! Sherlock's been hurt!" John removed his coat and then his shirt which he wadded up to press against Sherlock's throat which was leaking a worrying amount of blood.

"Sherlock! Sherlock!" John called but he did not answer. Perhaps it was better that he was unconscious. Sherlock's image became fuzzy as water filled John's eyes.

"Sherlock. Don't die. Damn you don't die on me now!"


	2. Chapter 2

2. Waiting

John sat in the lobby of the hospital filling out forms. He had not had time to change his tattered dust covered coat and his lack of a shirt kept him from removing it even though the lobby felt uncomfortably hot to him.

As he looked down at the sheets which began to blur beneath his tired vision he saw before him a pair of highly-polished, pointy toed, expensive black brogues.

"Hello John." Mycroft Holmes said.

John looked up to see him. Immaculately dressed as always in a gray suit, gray vest, black coat, with an umbrella. Mycroft took the papers from his tired hands and handed them to an assistant who carried them away.

"How is Sherlock?" Mycroft asked.

John tried to stand, but Mycroft motioned for him to stay down and sat beside him in one of the plastic-coated seats. He seemed incredibly out of place here in the dingy hospital waiting room.

"He's stable." John said, "Multiple lacerations to the face and neck, a broken arm, concussion, but they were able to stop the blood loss. He's had a transfusion. For anything else...it's too early to tell."

Mycroft placed the tips of his fingers on John's knee. "And how are you John? Have you seen a doctor yet?"

John glanced from his knee to Mycroft's face, and Mycroft removed his hand. As time passed John began to understand Sherlock's aversion to his brother. Mycroft was a powerful man who was a little too used to using his power. One had to handle him like one handled a live scorpion, carefully. Even so, Mycroft's concern for his brother never failed to touch John. He slouched down in his chair.

"Honestly John, you should get those cuts seen to. At least let me get you a change of clothes."

John was exhausted. It was only then that he realized that he had failed to call Mary. He jumped up, but suddenly he felt a bit woozy and the world went gray. Mycroft was there beside him with an arm around his chest as he blacked out.


	3. Chapter 3

3. Touched

When John awoke, He was lying on a large white leather bench in a darkened office. His coat had been removed and he lay shirtless. A sheet had been folded under him. He sat up on his elbows and noticed that it was dotted with many small bloodstains. Mycroft's dark silhouette approached him. He was holding a wet white cloth. He sat on edge of the bench beside him and dabbed at his bare shoulders.

"Where are we?" John asked.

"Still at the hospital. A private office. I know the director." Mycroft said, "You fainted."

John dropped back down on the bench looking up. Mycroft hovered over him. He had removed his coat, and the bottom two buttons of his vest had been undone. "You are a very brave man." Mycroft said, " Saving Sherlock's life...again."

"No you have it wrong." John said, "He saved me. Threw me behind a barrier or else I'd be in that emergency room with him now."

"But before that, you saved him." Mycroft said, "Pushed him out of the way of a bullet so my sources tell me. And let's not forget that your early care was instrumental in helping him to pull through. I owe you many thanks ...Captain John Watson."

"Oh yes, Mary! I have to call her." John said trying to rise.

Mycroft placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down. "It's already being handled," he said, "One of my people has called her. Told her about Sherlock's injuries, and said that you were injured only superficially and she need not worry about you. That you would be home in the morning."

John exhaled and relaxed on the couch. Mycroft rubbed his chest with the damp towel as John closed his eyes. "You just lie still and don't worry about a thing. Rest is the best cure for you now." John was exhausted from shock and worry. It was relaxing to feel the damp towel on his skin. John's muscles loosened under Mycroft's firm touch.

"Turn over John so that I can towel your back." Mycroft said his voice deep and soothing. John began to turn, then Mycroft put out a hand, "Wait." he said, "let me loosen your clothing."

Mycroft slowly, carefully undid John's belt. He removed it. Then he opened the top button of John's trousers. When he started to move the zipper, John began to open his eyes. Mycroft shushed him and turned him over onto his stomach. John relaxed down onto the bench one arm on either side of it, his head turned away from Mycroft.

He could feel the cool cloth rubbing across his back in large circles. At first it seemed that Mycroft used two hands, but over time he took one away. John flinched as the cloth rubbed against a deep scratch and Mycroft stopped. But then the rubbing began again, and John sank back into an almost slumber.

He could hear Mycroft breathing deeply as he rubbed his back. Each stroke, each breath relaxed John further until he was on the edge of consciousness. Then Mycroft's breath became quicker and more ragged as Mycroft's strokes became sharper and more jerky. The circles that he traced on John's back reached lower and lower until they pushed down the edge of his trousers.

Then the towel was gone, but Mycroft's breathing continued faster and deeper so that he sounded almost like he was hyperventilating. John thought that perhaps he should try to help him but he was so relaxed he didn't feel able to move yet.

Suddenly Mycroft made a small cry and sighed deeply. The bench rocked and he sighed again. Then Mycroft stood and John heard his footsteps leaving the room and the sound of water running in the private bathroom.

Sometime later, John couldn't tell how long because he had dozed off, a hand touched his back before covering it with a sheet. He turned his head. "Oh Mycroft. Thank you for cleaning my wounds. Do you still have that damp cloth?

Mycroft pressed his lips together in a strange expression. "No. I seem to have misplaced it. You rest. I'll send someone to get you as soon as we hear anything about Sherlock." He said. John nodded and fell asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

4. A husband's duty

Morning came and John woke to Mary's touch. She brought a change of clothes, and she 'Ooed' and 'aawed' appropriately when she saw his wounds. She was so glad that he was all right, she cried for him. John felt stiff from sleeping on the hard bench, even after Mycroft's massage.

John went first to the emergency room. He found that Sherlock had been moved into a critical care ward. Mary wanted John to be checked out, but he deferred finally agreeing to go home with her when the doctors assured him that there was nothing to be done about Sherlock. But at the hospital or at home, John was restless, unable to work, unable to think clearly.

Lestrade came by in the afternoon with an officer to take his statement. The bomber gang had been captured, all except for two: one who had suicided, and one who had gotten away.

"But we're on his trail. We'll catch him." Lestrade said."So how is Sherlock? Will he recover do you think?"

"I don't know." John said, "He's stable. That's all that they'll say for now."

"Well I'm sure he'll be fine." Lestrade said, "Takes more than a bomb to kill Sherlock Holmes. I've seen him in bad places before, and he always comes back."

"Let's hope so." Mary said before showing the officers out.

John sat on the couch. A worried expression on his face. Mary sat on her knees at his feet. "Don't worry John. Sherlock will be alright. They'll take care of him."

John looked at her and gave a small smile that moments later turned back into a frown. He reached out and touched her cheek and then sat back to worry again. Mary walked out of the room. She brought him some dinner that he hardly touched and took it away again to store in the refrigerator.

John realized that his brooding must be worrying Mary so he turned on the telly and pretended to watch it. He brushed his hair with his fingers as he sat with his elbow on the armrest focusing on nothing except the image of Sherlock's bloody face in the parking garage superimposed on the corpse from the fake suicide.

A shadow fell over John. He looked up and saw Mary standing hands on hips before him in white lace lingerie. "John Watson" She began, "You are worrying too much. You need to be distracted, and I still haven't gotten enough wear out of this honeymoon trousseau."

John smiled and reached out holding Mary by either side of her narrow waist. He pulled her forward bending his head back to kiss her on the lips. Then he pulled her closer wrapping his arms around her so that she leaned over the couch standing on tiptoe. Then John turned her and kissed her under her arms.

Mary was a petite perfectly formed figure of a woman. John had thought so from the first time that he had seen her. John was not a large man. Something that was accentuated whenever he stood beside Sherlock, but he was strong compared to Mary.

The fact that he could lift her over his head never failed to turn him on. He lifted Mary now sliding her down over his reclining body. She lifted her arms and he kissed the skin beside her breast, at the base of her underarm, on her rounded forearm and inside her elbow. Mary curled up on his lap undoing the back of her bra as she kissed his lips tenderly. She closed her eyes and crossed her arms behind his neck.

Then John stood lifting her by putting his arms under her thighs and feet. She clung to him as he carried her into the bedroom. Now as always the sight of Mary's perfectly round breasts compelled John to cover them with his hands. Mary laughed, her voice ringing off of the bare walls.

John kissed the skin below her breasts and then blew into her bellybutton which made her laugh again. He slowly undressed her remarking loudly on how perfect each part of her was as he kissed it.

Mary took off John's shirt but when she tried to remove his trousers he stopped her. Reaching his hand down to caress her in a way that made her arch away from him and lie back on the bed.

These months of married life, John had not been idle. He had studied in precise detail what made Mary happy using his considerable medical skill to document each part of her. Even so, there was still quite a lot of research left to do. Mary made the most amazing sounds, and it was a joy to watch her. Her face grew more and more angelic in her pleasure, and her hair surrounded her like a halo of gold.

Eventually she grabbed his hand to stop him, nipping at his wrists before curling onto her side. She pulled John over to spoon beside her which he did until he heard her quiet snores, then he rolled on his back and stared at the ceiling seeing again those closed eyes, and blood in that dark curly hair.


	5. Chapter 5

5. Homecoming

Mrs Turner was already there with the door open when the cab pulled up to the door of 221B Baker Street. John got out and helped the injured Sherlock out of the car. Mary carried a wheelchair into the entry stashing it under the stairs as John half-carried Sherlock up to his apartment.

"Are you sure that you boys don't want to stay over in my apartment?" Mrs Hudson asked, "I'd be happy to let Sherlock stay on the couch."

"No thank you Mrs Hudson." John said, "We'll manage."

Mary opened the door for John as he carried Sherlock in and sat him in his chair. Sherlock was a mess. A bandage covered his head completely covering his left eye. His other eye was still a bit puffy, the skin around it red. The hair that did stick out from under the bandage had been shorn, and his left arm was in a cast.

"I'll be just a minute." Mary said to the cabbie as she went over to give John a hug. "Now I'll call you from the airport just to tell you that I made the flight. Mrs Hudson has already stocked the refrigerator with your favorite foods. When I get there I'll send a message. Now let me get out of your hair, so you boys have time to get reacquainted. I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too. Have fun." John said.

"You take care of Sherlock, and don't forget to get out from time to time. The sick bed can get you down if you never take a break."

"I'll be fine. Love you." John said kissing his wife goodbye.

"Love you." Mary said and rubbed noses with him before rushing down the stairs.

If Sherlock could have, he would have rolled his eyes. As it was, he looked away pointedly.

"I'll see her out, shall I?" Mrs Hudson said "You boys settle in."

"Boys" Sherlock said, " Why do we suddenly become children just because I'm injured."

"It's just their mothering impulse coming out. Don't take offense Sherlock."

"I had enough mothering nonsense at the hospital, Thank goodness we're home again."

"Yes thank goodness." John replied snidely, "They were about to throw you out whether it killed you or not. Did you have to be so offensive to the staff?"

"The hospital was tedious." Sherlock whined, "Boring people, boring problems. What is it to me if the doctor was having an affair with two of his nurses, and the janitor was stealing silver nitride for his photography projects. There was nothing of interest to do there. My mind was going numb."

"Well we're back home now, so you can be bored without annoying anyone."

"Are you saying that I don't annoy you anymore?"

"You annoy me, but I'm used to it." John said and he walked into the kitchen to look in the cabinets. He came back with a bottle of beer.

"Would you like some beer, Sherlock?"

"No." Sherlock said curtly

"Then what can I get you?"

"Some silence" Sherlock said, "I have to think."

"About what?" John asked.

"About how I can work like this when I can't walk and I can't see and I can't think."

"You can't think?" John said concerned, " Are you still experiencing memory loss?"

Sherlock was silent for a few moments, "Yes, from time to time. There are moments when I can't remember where I am. It is ...extremely disorienting and disturbing."

"Don't worry Sherlock." John said, "Now that you are home in familiar surroundings, things should be better."

"So how long will Mary be away?" Sherlock asked.

"Two weeks. A trip to Italy with her college classmates. She wasn't going to go because ...newlyweds and all, but with me taking care of you, she decided to."

"You should have gone too, John. You don't want to be stuck with an invalid. Mycroft can hire a nurse to take care of me. He has offered."

"Don't be ridiculous Sherlock." John said, "You'd have sent her packing in less than a week. Beside, I like your company. It's good to spend some time with you again."

"You don't have to lie John. I know this is just your misguided sense of loyalty."

"Call it what you will. I'm staying." John replied taking another drink.

"I see." Sherlock said, "although not very well."

"The correct response is 'thank you' " John said.

Sherlock leaned his lips against his fingertips. Then he said very quietly, "Thank You."

"You're welcome." John said loudly and smiled as he sat in his chair and opened the paper.

With John in charge, the days had a regimental regularity to them. Sherlock was woken each morning, taken to the bathroom, and dressed in his best dressing gown. Mrs Hudson brought up breakfast even though she wasn't their housekeeper. John read the newspaper to Sherlock. Then a bath. Some clothes, and downstairs for a stroll around the neighborhood in a wheelchair. On days when Sherlock was feeling bad, they'd stay in. Molly was a frequent visitor stopping by after work to spend a few moments , "cheering Sherlock" as she called it.

After a week, the doctor came by and removed the bandage from Sherlock's eye. He shined a light in it. But Sherlock could not see it. The vision in his other eye was still very poor, and his headaches and memory loss continued.

"It is a wonder that you survived that blast at all." The doctor said to a discouraged Sherlock, "We can not expect miracles. We must give your body time to heal."

That evening Sherlock sat up with John drinking beer and talking happily about old cases. Then John put Sherlock to bed and went to sleep on the couch as his old room was too far away.

He was woken by the sound of ammunition rounds falling from the table. When John opened his eyes he saw Sherlock sitting on the floor pointing a gun toward his mouth.


	6. Chapter 6

6. Confessions

They say that in combat sometimes everything would seem to freeze. A moment of complete clarity when a person could see everything around them and have time to make a decision that would save their life. Such a moment happened to John now.

John leapt off of the couch pushing against it hard with his feet to give him speed. He picked up the pillow from the chair and tossed it to where Sherlock sat, knocking the gun out of his hand. Then he fell onto Sherlock snatching the gun away from him and unloading it in the same moment. He tossed the gun in one direction and the ammunition in another and sat panting on top of Sherlock's supine body.

"What exactly do you think you are doing!" John yelled. He grabbed Sherlock by the shoulder shaking him back and forth before he realized the danger to his head and pulled him into an embrace instead.

Sherlock let himself be handled like a doll. He had no expression on his face. "John." He whispered, "Let me go. Just let me do it."

John glared at Sherlock anger in his eyes, "Let you do what?" he demanded.

"Die." Sherlock said, "I can't see. I can't think. I may never recover fully. I may never be able to work again. Give me the gun and let me kill myself."

John sat back on his heels his lips contorted with anger. Sherlock tried to crawl toward the gun but John stopped him with a slap that sent him reeling to the floor.

"You bastard!" John yelled, "You selfish bastard. What do you think you are doing trying to kill yourself? How dare you put me through this again? I am not going to cry over your body a second time!"

John sat back on his heels breathing heavily. He covered his eyes. Then he jumped up and grabbed the gun and ammunition and ran out of the apartment.

Sherlock lay on the floor staring up at the ceiling. He heard the sound of John's feet on the stairs. Then he heard them return. "Where did you go?"Sherlock asked.

"None of your business where I went or what I was doing. We are getting you back to bed." John put his arms under Sherlock's armpits and dragged him back into the bedroom. He tossed Sherlock onto the bed and then began searching around the room.

"What are you looking for?" Sherlock asked.

"The wooden box. The case of things that Kate had you buy." John said.

"What do you want? The whip?"

"No, I'm trying to find straps to tie you down." John replied.

"You don't have to tie me down, John." Sherlock said sitting up in his bed.

"Then what am I supposed to do? What do I do when you have obviously gone out of your mind? What were you thinking Sherlock? How could you consider. Oh God. What if I hadn't woken up in time." John began to shake.

Sherlock looked at him concerned, "John, calm down. It's fine. It's all fine now."

"No it's not! It's definitely NOT fine Sherlock! I just stopped you from...What were you thinking?" John paced around the room agitated. "Sherlock. What could have possibly possessed you to want to kill yourself? Talk to me. Explain it to me, because I need to understand this. "

"John. I didn't want to hurt you."

"Well you have a strange way of showing it." John cried.

"I...It's just. What kind of a detective am I now? How can a blind detective detect anything? I can't see John. And these headaches. My memory, my mind is not working.

"I know what people think of me, John. They think that I'm arrogant, unlovable, barely tolerable, but my mind sets me apart. It makes me worth something because I can think and reason. With my body, my eyes and my brain, I solve crimes and my existence is worthwhile.

"What worth do I have if I can't see? If I can't walk around? If I can't think? My career is over, and without that I am no use to anyone. I am nothing."

"You are NOT nothing Sherlock." John said fervidly, "You are everything...You are everything to me. But sometimes you make me so mad! How could you try to leave me? How could you do that to Mary?"

"To Mary?" Sherlock asked surprised,"I must be having one of my episodes, because I have no idea what you mean? How could my death hurt Mary?"

"Because if you died." John began, "If you ...blew your brains out on the floor like you tried to do. How could I stop myself from taking that gun and following you into death? And if I did that what would happen to Mary? You tell me that. What would happen to Mary with me gone?"

"I don't understand you." Sherlock said, "You talk about following me in death and then you talk about your wife who you left me for."

"Oh Christ Sherlock!" John cursed, "You understand nothing." Then he took Sherlock's face in his hands and kissed him.

Sherlock fell back against the headboard of the bed stunned. The last time he had been kissed was the night that John had moved out. He had wanted the night to last forever so that John would always be with him, always be touching him, but daylight had come streaming into the window and John had left.

Afterward, Sherlock had given up passion. He had given up emotion, or had tried to, but between cases, and sometimes now even during them he had felt a dull ache, a desire for something more.

John's mouth awakened memories, especially since John's tears made his kisses taste like salt just as they had then. But on that last night together it was Sherlock's tears that they had tasted, before John had walked away leaving him behind ...damaged.

John's figure was a blur in Sherlock's vision, but he could still see the pain in John's eyes. He could feel the desperation in his touch. He couldn't understand what John saw in him. It wasn't beauty. Not with his face swollen and his hair shorn like a sheep in the spring. Sherlock reached out with his one good hand and caressed John's cheek. "You said that I don't understand." he said. "What don't I understand?"

"You don't understand what you mean to me. You don't understand how much I love you." John said. "How can you be so smart and not know that?"

Sherlock turned his head so that he could see John out of his one good eye. "I didn't know."

"Didn't you? Couldn't you tell by how hard it was for me to leave you?"

"But you did leave me." Sherlock spat.

"You left me first! For some iron miner in Sheffield."

"But John that was just..." Sherlock began.

"What? A case?" John finished for him, "I can't take being abandoned, Sherlock. I had to get my distance from that pain. To find a way to be whole again."

"Distance is one thing. Marriage is another." Sherlock said with a pained voice, "Why did you marry Mary?"

"Because of all the women that I have dated, she was the only one who would let me love you. Did you never think it odd for a man married less than six months to move back in with his old roommate? I can do it because Mary is an exceptional woman and she understands me. She knows what is in my heart."

"And what is in your heart John?" Sherlock asked.

"You." John said.

"Sherlock shook his head. I don't believe you." he said, "You are a doctor. This is some kind of trick to keep me from alive until you can get to the hospital to shoot me up with antidepressants.

"I've looked in the mirror. I am damaged. With a bad eye and a worse eye. Scarred. My bones broken, and my brain rattled, a wreck of a man. Look at me. Honestly look at me, and tell me what kind of man am I?"

John stared right into his swollen damaged face and said, "You're beautiful."

A chuckle burst out of Sherlock's mouth in spite of himself. "My God," he said, "It never fails. No matter how low I get you can always bring me out of it. Please John, help me."

"What do you want?" John asked.

"Just hold me now and don't ever let me go." Sherlock said.

John sat against the headboard of the bed and pulled Sherlock to his chest kissing what was left of his tattered curls. He rocked him back and forth and whispered into his ear, "I'll never let you go Sherlock. Never again."


	7. Chapter 7

7. Enamored

It was like a second honeymoon for John. No one expected Sherlock and he to be anywhere so they never left each other alone. They made their own schedule which was remarkably like their old schedule except it was much more pleasant.

Every morning John and Sherlock would wake in Sherlock's bed to a round of gentle kisses before he took Sherlock to the bathroom. Then Sherlock was dressed in his best dressing gown and they ate breakfast in front of Mrs Hudson's negligent eye.

"Why Sherlock, you're looking a lot better," She said as Sherlock stabbed a chunk of ham on his fork greedily."

"It's all due to your attentive care, I assure you." Sherlock said, " and John's of course."

Mrs Hudson was pleased. She smiled and turned to clean the kitchen never noticing how John and Sherlock played footsie under the table or where exactly John's left hand was.

Next was their bath. Sherlock wrapped his cast in plastic and tried to keep it out of the water as John soaped the rest of his body using John's own body as the sponge. His shoulder muscles grew stronger as he tried to make their baths last longer and longer, because he loved the way their bodies slid past each other in the soapy water, and he felt less of an invalid able to rub his hand all over John's naked body.

Next they dressed and took a stroll around the neighborhood. John would lean over the wheelchair and smirk as Sherlock amused him with his conjecture about what each person had just done or was planning to do. They smiled like schoolboys as John rode on the back of the chair narrowly avoiding collisions on the High street.

They would often accompany Mrs Hudson as she started off on her way to the store to go shopping only to turn back and reenter the house to have hot wheelchair sex in the hallway. When John stood, he was just the right height for Sherlock to reach him, and they had quite a few accidents when one of them mistakenly removed the brake.

One time, Mrs Hudson came home early and their was a rush to cover themselves. Luckily she walked past oblivious only remarking that she had better get out her air fresheners because the stairway smelled like 'a couple of dogs rutting'. Luckily Sherlock's coat hid a multitude of sins. They laughed after she passed before hobbling upstairs to finish what they had started on the red living room rug.

In the evening after Molly came, increasingly cheered by how Sherlock's banter with John sounded almost back to normal, they would go back to the bedroom and undress.

Because Sherlock objected that he could not see John's beautiful body well at all. John leveled the playing field by tying a scarf around his own eyes. He held Sherlock's hand up to his face. "Feel it?" he asked, "Now you see better than I do. We'll just have to use our other senses now."

Sherlock loved the smell of John. John had a natural musk that was enticing and manly. He loved the feel of his shoulders even when John's body was beaded all over with tiny jewels of sweat.

Sherlock wore an eyepatch over his left eye now and John continually teased him with pirate jokes. He walked his fingers across Sherlock's belly and asked him if he should "walk the plank." In the midst of a session of serious passion, he would yell out "Shiver me timbers!" making Sherlock laugh so hard that he rolled off of the bed in stitches.

Every moment they spent together they felt a sense of grace. As if they were the luckiest people alive to be this loved and to be this happy. They stared at each other with smiles on the edges of their lips unwilling to leave each other's sight even for a minute. Wanting to spend every moment of this time together, because they both knew that there was no way that such joy could continue forever.

The first cracks appeared one night when they sat wrapped around each other watching telly, both sitting in John's chair. The phone rang. John wormed his way out from under Sherlock and answered it.

"Hello John!" Mary cried over the phone, static interrupting her connection. "I'm in Paris! My flight is in an hour, and then I'll be home. Sorry I didn't call you this last week. But we had such an exciting time. I have so much to tell you! See you at the airport. Love you."

"Love you too, Mary" John said before closing the connection. He walked across the room and sat down in Sherlock's chair. Sherlock looked across at him. The first frown in over a week began to touch the sides of his lips. "Mary's coming back." John said flatly.

"What are you going to do?" Sherlock asked with the smallest crack in the back of his throat. John put his hands together unconsciously mirroring Sherlock's old pose as he thought. He didn't answer.


	8. Chapter 8

8. One big happy family

"He hasn't recovered yet. He can't see properly. He can't walk." John said imploringly.

"But this apartment is too small. We don't have a guest room. He can go to a hospital."

"It's almost Christmas. He's my best friend. Please." John cried looking at Mary with puppy dog eyes until she relented.

"Alright, John Watson, but only because you're so cute. And don't think that I'll let you get off with only taking care of him. I expect back rubs in return."

"Your wish is my command." John said.

"Actually, I think that you are so sweet. Most men would be glad for any excuse to get rid of a responsibility. I have the best husband in the world." Mary said giving him a peck on the chin, "Now go get him, I'll set up the couch with some linens. And don't forget to bring his medicines."

"Will do. Thank you." John said and kissed Mary's cheek before grabbing his coat and rushing out of the door.

John walked down the steps to the street remembering his parting with Sherlock two nights before. When John had said that he was going to take Mary home, and that he would be back in the morning, Sherlock's tears had started to flow. He held John's hand and wouldn't release it saying, "Just five minutes more", and "just one minute more." It was clear from the way he acted that Sherlock did not believe that he would return.

John remembered Sherlock's attempted suicide, and he feared for his friend. He sat down beside his chair and talked to him. "Sherlock, my love, I will come for you. I will tell Mary that you are too sick to live alone, and you can come to live in our apartment."

"But I don't want to live with Mary. I don't want to share you." Sherlock blubbered.

"Please Sherlock, please wait for me. I will come back for you. I promise." John said on his knees. Sherlock nodded and John had left him, but only after giving Mrs Hudson strict instructions to watch him carefully because in this half-well state Sherlock might accidentally do himself harm.

John had spent two sleepless nights holding on to his wife and worrying about Sherlock. Had he hidden the gun well enough in the flowerpot outside of the window of 221C, or would he come back to that horrifying scene that he dreaded? Where Sherlock's body lay strewn on the floor, dead.

The chill air invigorated John, and he smiled like a young man smiles on his way to meet his lover, and wasn't that what was happening. John felt ecstatic, reckless. He longed to see Sherlock again, to touch him, to kiss him. He knew that it was madness to have both Sherlock and Mary together in the same apartment, but some part of him felt powerful and beautiful to think that two such amazing people loved him. He didn't want to give up anything. He wanted them both, even if he knew in his heart that it could never happen, that despite what Mary had said that she did not like sharing.

John ran up the steps of 221B Baker street two at a time. Sherlock was waiting for him. He had been watching out of the window so long, that his hands were chill from touching the glass. John warmed them in his own and then kissed Sherlock who closed his eyes.

"I'll do anything to be with you." Sherlock confessed, "Even if I have to tolerate Mary's company."

"Mary is actually quite a nice person." John said

Sherlock snorted.

Later, after saying goodbye to Mrs Hudson who promised to bring a few things to their place tomorrow, they were out on the street. Sherlock bundled up in his scarf and that hat that he hated. ("But you've got to keep warm!" John had said smiling as he placed it on his head.) and John with a pack on his back containing Sherlock's medicine and essential supplies.

They had decided to walk part of the way, to give themselves some time together. The evening had already come on and it was dark. John wheeled Sherlock through back streets and alleys to give them privacy. At one point they stood under a bridge and looked up at the stars. The London city lights made it hard to see them, but they were there, and they were beautiful.

"Sometimes when I look at the stars, I imagine that there is a world somewhere out there where we can all live together in peace without any jealousy or fear." John said as he held Sherlock's gloved hands.

"Don't be ridiculous, John" Sherlock had said, "They are only balls of ionized gas."

John laughed, "So you read that Astronomy book that I bought you. Did you?"

"There was nothing else to do. I was so bored when you were away." Sherlock replied as John wheeled him on.

John's apartment had an elevator. He knocked on the door and Mary welcomed them in. She had made a sort of cave for Sherlock in the corner of the room. It was something that John would never have thought of, but Mary had taken care of preschoolers.

She had pushed the couch over near the wall. Set an end table next to it, and hung a sheet as a curtain for privacy. Now it was tied open, but Sherlock could easily close it if he needed to. The couch was made up as a bed with two fluffy pillows on it.

John put Sherlock down and then took away one of the pillows.

"Sherlock doesn't like his bed too soft." he said.

"Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes," Mary said as she walked into the kitchen.

John dropped the bag on the end table.

"Let me just test this out," Sherlock said pulling the cord so that the curtain fell obscuring them, Then he grabbed John's collar and pulled him down onto the couch.

Sherlock and John kissed passionately and awkwardly as Sherlock tried to pull John down to the couch and John tried to stay up. Sherlock put his hand on John's crotch and got an immediate reaction. He had already mastered the art of undoing John's clothes one handed. John tried to stop him but Sherlock nipped at his fingers. Then his mouth nipped something else and John cried out despite himself.

"What was that, John?" Mary asked from the kitchen, "did you hurt yourself?"

"I'm fine." John said, " I just jabbed myself with something sharp." He lied as Sherlock licked and nipped him so that he thought that he might explode right then and there. John clenched his buttocks and covered his mouth to hide his moans as Sherlock did things to him that he had never imagined. He thought that he would fall over.

"I hope that you like carrots." Mary said, " There was a really good sale, so I'm making some candied ones."

John stifled a scream as he came suddenly. Sherlock held his hips and swallowed all of the evidence. Drying him with a pocket handkerchief and refastening his belt just as Mary entered the room to tell them that dinner was ready.

"I've already eaten." Sherlock said, "But I may want a little dessert."

John reached over and used tying up the curtain as an excuse to try to catch his breath.

"Can you just help me into the bathroom, John, so that I can wash my hands?" Sherlock said with a twinkle in his eye.

John looked from Sherlock to Mary and sighed. Maybe he had taken on a bit more than he could chew.


	9. Chapter 9

9. Johnny cake

Days and nights for John became alternately exhilarating and terrifying. He felt like a steak that had been thrown into a dog kennel. Sherlock, consummate actor that he was, would lie on the couch like a man half dead until the moment that Mary left to go to work.

John would kiss her goodbye and close the door behind her only to turn and find Sherlock there behind him surprisingly mobile with hands that reached everywhere and an incredibly nimble tongue.

John found that he quite liked the eyepatch. It made Sherlock look like the rogue that he was. He never failed to ravish John every morning. Then when Mary returned he would be back on the couch looking as if he had never moved until Mary chided John for not giving Sherlock enough exercise.

Mary would tell John about her day at work while he sat behind her chair and rubbed her shoulders. Then John would cook dinner because at this time Mary was supporting them both, since John had quit his locum work when he went to stay with Sherlock.

"Now John" Mary said, "It's time that you started to think about purchasing a practice. We still have that money that Sherlock gave us as a wedding present, and I've seen a couple of them advertised that aren't too far away."

"Doing what?" Sherlock interjected, "treating little old ladies with hemorrhoids and the odd skinned knee."

"Sherlock," Mary replied a bit miffed at the interruption, "John is a doctor. He has to practice medicine."

"He was a field surgeon. Treating coughs and colds will make him go insane." Sherlock interjected.

"Then what can he do. He needs to make a living?" Mary said.

"He can work for me." Sherlock said.

"As what?" Mary asked.

"As my publicist and assistant ...no colleague." said Sherlock, "We made quite a bit of money working together before, and I must admit that much of it was due to John's blogging skills."

"My goodness. Was that a compliment?" John said smiling. "Hand me the paper, I need to look up the weather report for Hell. Now both of you. We can explore all possibilities. I'll keep looking for partnerships and practices, and when you recover, we can talk about things like blogging. Now can we get back to this dinner that I slaved hours in the kitchen to make?"

"Honestly John, It took you exactly thirty minutes to make this meal. Rice and instant curry are hardly ..."

"Shut up Sherlock." John said as he shoveled another spoonful onto his plate.

At night, he would close the door to the bedroom and he was Mary's. She was jealous that he spent so much time taking care of things other than her, and so she claimed him each night. Trying out all of her exciting nightclothes. She had gone on quite a shopping spree when she was in Italy. When he tried to cover her mouth to muffle her screams, she pushed his hand away and screamed louder.

"This is my apartment." She said later when he asked about it, "and we are legally married. Let the neighbors complain."

In the middle of the night, John would get up to go to the bathroom only to find Sherlock waiting for him when he got out. Sherlock looked at him his eye half-hurt with longing and a tremor in his bottom lip that could only be stopped by John's kisses.

John would take Sherlock back to his cave and comfort him before sneaking back into bed with Mary. In the morning she would chide him about oversleeping.

That morning John found Sherlock in the kitchen wearing Mary's apron.

"What are you doing?" John asked.

"I'm fixing you breakfast. I want to repay you for taking care of me so well." Sherlock said as he shoveled more eggs onto Mary's plate.

"You should try these." Mary said, "Sherlock is a surprisingly good cook."

John went over to sniff the plate, "Is there only food in these eggs, or did you put something else in it?"

"What do you mean John?" Mary asked.

"I mean at home Sherlock would keep the rat poison next to the sugar container." John said.

"But this is Mary's home." Sherlock said, "She doesn't have rat poison. Or at least none that I could find."

"John, I've been thinking. I want to have a Christmas party." Mary said.

"What?" John questioned her, "Why?"

"Because it's Christmas silly." Mary said, "Why else do you have them? Anyway. I have some friends from work that I'd like you to meet, and we can invite all of Sherlock's friends too. It can be a sort of going away party since Sherlock is doing so well."

Sherlock glanced over at her from the kitchen, and then turned back to flip a piece of ham.

"Well, I don't know. Wouldn't it be a lot of fuss?"John asked.

"You don't have to do a thing. I'll handle everything. Oh! I'm going to be late!" Mary jumped up, "I'll buy invitations and call you at lunchtime. Good day, Love."

John kissed her goodbye at the door and turned but Sherlock was not there. He was still in the kitchen. The sound of sizzling meat the only sound in the room. John walked back to the dining table.

"I shouldn't have cooked this morning." He said, "I should have lay there and looked like I was dying so that she knew that she couldn't move me. I've miscalculated."

"It will be alright Sherlock," John said, " I'll talk to Mary."

"No, she's right." He said, " I haven't paid attention because I've been so distracted, but my headaches are gone. I am not so stiff when I walk now. I don't think that I need the wheelchair anymore. And my brain. I have been processing large amounts of information and I have had no trouble accessing it. I am healing."

"Large amounts of information?" John asked, "What have you been thinking about?"

"About how to get you alone without Mary noticing. About the exact amount of pressure to apply that will give you an erection without making you yell out. About how many orgasms your wife is having and whether I can get the same number."

"My, you are competitive." John said.

"It is tiring living here, " Sherlock said, " I miss the familiar surroundings of my own flat, but I don't want to part with you, not even for a minute."

John reached over to turn off the ham that was beginning to burn and Sherlock snuggled his body against him. John half-closed his eyes as he held Sherlock simply running his nose against the skin of his chin. Feeling his warmth.

"She suspects." Sherlock whispered, "she isn't sure yet, but she suspects that there is more going on between you and I than playing a game of cluedo."

John placed his hand on Sherlock's scarred cheek and pulled him into a soft kiss.

"Everytime I hear her cry out in passion, I feel that I might die of envy." Sherlock said, "I can't help wanting you, John. It made me so happy when you called my apartment 'home'. I want you to come home with me John. Come home and make me as happy as you made her."

"Shut up, Sherlock." John said before stopping up his mouth with his tongue.


	10. Chapter 10

10. The Christmas party

Christmas eve had the three of them working hard to prepare for the party. Mary was busy in the kitchen making hors d'oevres while John put decorations up. Even Sherlock helped by decorating the tree, however his haphazard placement of ornaments showed that he had never done it before.

"Spread them out Sherlock. Don't put them all in one place." John criticized, " and layer them, some in the back some forward so that they catch the light."

"If you're such an expert, why don't you do it?" Sherlock countered.

"I'm trying to hang this mistletoe." John said standing up on a chair and reaching for the ceiling.

Sherlock came over and motioned for him to get down. " You're both too short for this sort of work. Let me do it."

Sherlock climbed on the chair hanging the sprig of mistletoe on the hook. John steadied the chair for Sherlock who placed one hand on John's shoulder as he climbed down carefully. He kept the hand on John's shoulder as he looked into his eyes and kissed him ardently. As their faces slowly separated John noticed Sherlock's eye dart quickly over his shoulder. He turned to see Mary staring at them while holding a cheese tray.

No one moved for several seconds. Then John reached out a hand and said, "Mary..." Just as the doorbell rang. It rang again, and no one moved to get it, so Sherlock did. He opened the door and there at the entrance was Detective Inspector Lestrade.

"Am I early?" He said entering the room with a six-pack of beer. "Sherlock, you're looking well. I told John that you would recover. All broken up over you he was. And I brought a little something for the party."

Mary put the tray on the table and went across to take the beer from Lestrade. "Thank You." She said. Let me put this in the kitchen. John followed her with his eyes as she walked past without glancing at him. Then he looked at the floor and took a deep breath.

Lestrade and Sherlock immediately began to talk shop. "Now that you are doing so much better, I was wondering if you could help us with a case."

"New case?" Sherlock asked.

"No an old one. That bomber case that laid you out. We still haven't caught him." Lestrade said.

"What about his contacts?"

" All cold. He's gone to ground."

John picked up the box of decorations and hid it behind the tree. Mary had definitely seen him and Sherlock together that time. There was no doubt about the emotion in that kiss. What was she doing in the kitchen? She might be crying. She might be trying out butcher knives. John knew better than to interrupt her when she was thinking. Luckily he was distracted by the bell.

John opened the door and let in Mrs Hudson. "Here's some wine for you dearies." She said, "And this is for you Sherlock. My goodness you almost look like your old self." She handed Sherlock a wrapped present and his violin case. "I was hoping you might play us a tune like you used to do." She said but open the present first.

John put the wine on the table, unwilling to do more than peek into the kitchen at Mary before stepping back into the living room. Sherlock unwrapped the present. It was a pair of elf slippers complete with jingle bells on the curled toes. "Why thank you." Sherlock said mechanically.

"Don't mention it dear, why don't you try it on?"

"Perhaps later." Sherlock said placing the shoes carefully under the tree.

"Such a nice place you have here John." Mrs Hudson said, "And where is your lovely wife?"

"She's in the kitchen, she'll be out shortly." John said.

Sherlock began to play a few notes on his violin. He made a brief stab at 'We wish you a merry Christmas' before playing a different tune. A tune altogether more stirring and passionate. John recognized it. It was Beethoven's Romance no. 2 and Sherlock had played it for him the morning after their first time together.

John turned toward him lost in his playing. The first time he had heard it, Sherlock had been in the other room, but now he saw him, his eyes closed as he moved his torso in deep slow movements playing low and high notes. John couldn't take his eyes off of him. The rest of the room fell away and there was only Sherlock who he knew was playing just for him.

It was only after Sherlock played the last note that John noticed that he was crying. He turned embarrassed that everyone would have seen his overreaction to Sherlock's playing but they were all on their feet clapping. Even Mary who had come out of her hiding place of the kitchen to watch him play. Sherlock took a bow and another one.

"Very good. Very good" Lestrade said.

"That was just lovely." said Mrs Hudson as they walked across to congratulate him.

The door rang and John took the opportunity to wipe his eyes again as he rushed to get it. He opened the door and it was Mycroft. Mycroft smiled at him. Could he tell that he had been crying, John wondered? John motioned for Mycroft to come in and noticed that Mary was standing at his side. He looked at her. She smiled at Mycroft.

"And this must be Mrs Watson. Charmed to meet you madam. I am Sherlock's brother, Mycroft." He kissed her hand, "I just wanted to thank you for taking care of my brother. And here is a small token of esteem." He handed Mary a gold bag. Inside it was the finest Beluga caviar.

Mary drew in a breath, "My, thank you. Let me go see if we have a butter dish to put this in." and she ran off with her prize to the kitchen.

Mycroft then reached out to shake John's hand.

"It is always a pleasure to see you Captain John Watson. I never felt that I was able to adequately thank you for the care that you have bestowed on my brother after his accident. He is indeed privileged to have you as a friend."

"It's no problem." John said.

All of this time Mycroft held his hand firmly but gently. Even though they had finished talking, he still held his hand as he stared at John with an uneven smile on his lips. Sherlock raised his eyebrows and turned to stare at his brother. Mycroft let John's hand go.

"Ah, Sherlock." He began, "You seem much improved under John and Mary's ...loving care."

"Hello Mycroft." Sherlock said coldly, "We both know that you didn't come here to see me."

"I just wanted to wish you a Happy Christmas, and now I think that I have just spied cheese cubes on toothpicks."

Mycroft went off to the kitchen and Sherlock came to whisper in John's ear. "It's murder standing so far away from you all of the time. Did you like my playing? I know you did because I saw you cry. Come away with me, John. Come back home and live with me. We can announce it tonight. Everyone will be here."

"John," Mary called, "Do you think that you can help me with these gerkins?"

"Of course dear." John called walking over to her.

He twisted the jar which was very stubbornly fixed closed. He wiped his brow.

"It's getting a bit hot in here." John said, "Maybe I should take off this sweater."

He looked up to find three pairs of eyes, (Mary's, Sherlock's, and Mycroft's) riveted on him.

"Then again. Maybe not." He said as a 'pop' informed him that the jar was now open.

The bell rang and John handed the jar to Mary as he went over to answer the door.

It was Molly. She wore a long green coat and had a sprig of holly in her hair.

"Some wine for the party." She said handing it over. John gave the wine to his wife and then helped Molly off with her coat.

"Oh Good King Wenceslaus!" John exclaimed as he looked at her. Molly was wearing black knee high boots and a green dress, but the dress was incredibly short and it was so tight it looked as if it was painted on.

"Oh you look nice, Molly" Mrs Hudson said as Lestrade finally remembered to raise his jaw which had fallen open at the sight of her dress.

"Hi Sherlock." She said.

He nodded and went back to talking to Lestrade. They were both sitting on the couch now but Lestrade was obviously distracted by the fact that when she stood by them trying unsuccessfully to get Sherlock's attention, the bottom of Molly's skirt was above Lestrade's elbow.

Suddenly they heard an erotic moaning sound "OOOHHHH!" and everyone but Mary stared at Sherlock.

"It can't be..."Molly began.


	11. Chapter 11

11. Christmas crackers

Suddenly they heard an erotic moaning sound "OOOHHHH!" and everyone but Mary stared at Sherlock.

"It can't be..."Molly began.

"No. It's not Irene. It's Kate. She has Irene's old number."

Sherlock read the text, and then stood up and went to the door opening it to find a small box lying on the ground there.

"Haven't you changed that text alert sound yet? " John said, "Wait. Don't you have a new phone?"

"I transferred all the settings when I got it." Sherlock said.

"Well then, open it" Mrs Hudson said as they all stared at Sherlock. Sherlock opened the shiny red box to reveal a set of handcuffs.

"What's that for?" Molly asked.

"Oh there are lots of good uses for a pair of handcuffs," Mrs Hudson said, "Well in my day..."

Mary leaned over and said to John, "I feel that I'm missing something here."

"It's a bit of a long story." John said glad that she was talking to him again, "I'll tell you later."

Lestrade took a professional look at the handcuffs before handing them to Sherlock who hung them up on the tree.

Next to arrive were a group of Mary's work friends. She grabbed on to John's arm showing him off like a show pony. Sherlock stood next to the tree staring disdainfully at them.

When he could get away, John went over to Sherlock who whispered in his ear, "If I kiss you now, in front of everyone, then they'll know that we are a couple. I want to announce it John. I want the world to know that I love you."

"Sherlock!" John whispered back harshly, "Not in front of Mary's friends. Not when she's trying to show them her new happily married life. That would be unforgivable."

John walked off across the room his lips in an angry line. He took a deep breath and looked around to see that he was next to Molly. Molly was standing under the mistletoe with a forlorn expression on her face. Every so often she glanced across the room at Sherlock.

"Hello Molly." John said, "enjoying the party?"

"Um huh." Molly muttered, "But now I remember, I had something to tell you. On the bulletin board at Barts theres an advertisement. They're opening a new clinic there for veterans back from the wars. They want to hire a doctor to run it. I thought that you'd be perfect for it being that you're a veteran yourself."

"That sounds interesting." John said, "Where is that?"

"At Barts like I said. It's new. It's only part-time but I thought that you might be interested."

"Yes, I am interested. Thank you. I'll look into it." John said. He noticed that Molly's mood had picked up and she stood a little straighter. When he turned he saw that Sherlock had come across the room to talk to him.

He leaned over to John and whispered. "What do you say, John. We have quite an audience now."

Sherlock leaned toward John as if to kiss him. John panicked. He turned grabbing the closest person, who happened to be Molly, and gave her a kiss. When he looked up again, he saw eyes all around the room staring at him open-mouthed.


	12. Chapter 12

12. After the party

That night, they went to bed without cleaning up. It was universally acknowledged that the party had been a bit of a disaster. Trying not to embarrass Mary by kissing Sherlock, he had embarrassed Mary by kissing Molly, who was so embarrassed herself for kissing John in front of Sherlock that she went completely red and used the first excuse to leave.

Mycroft left soon after, and the party had fallen apart. When they were gone and Sherlock, Mary and he were left alone. They all decided to go to bed in silence.

The next day was Christmas. Without talking they had all somehow agreed that any disagreements could wait until later and they spent a pleasant morning eating left over caviar and sandwiches as they opened their presents.

After cleaning the house, Mary insisted that they all go to church. Strangely enough, Sherlock agreed. John was afraid that he would spend the service heckling the clergymen, but Sherlock had superb manners in church. When John thought about how Mycroft acted most of the time, he realized that Sherlock's parents were probably real sticklers for acting properly at public functions. He couldn't imagine that Sherlock or Mycroft could have gotten away with giggling or fidgeting in a pew.

That evening they sat around in the living room. Sherlock played the violin (not that piece), and Mary knitted while John finally got a chance to read some medical journals that he had set aside. It was one of the most pleasant Christmases of his memory.

On Boxing Day, Sherlock slept late. John left on an errand and came back that morning to find Mary and Sherlock sitting at the breakfast table. Somehow the sight of them getting along so well surprised him. John sat down.

"Good news," he said, "I've got a job."

They turned to look at him.

"Where?" Mary asked.

"At a clinic operating out of Bart's Hospital. It treats veterans just back from the war. I went to talk to them about it, and they hired me on the spot. The good thing is that it's part-time so I'll still be able to do cases with you Sherlock, when I'm not working. And the pay's not bad either."

"That's good." Mary said, "That's wonderful!"

Then the bell rang and a doctor arrived. He looked Sherlock over and declared him fit to move back into his apartment.

"Your eyesight should come back soon. You don't have to wear the eyepatch anymore, just be careful going down stairs, or anywhere where you need to judge distances."

As Sherlock and John packed Sherlock's things John whispered to him."Don't throw away the eyepatch." and Sherlock laughed.

With the violin, the things that Mrs Hudson had brought, not to mention the Christmas presents, they realized that it would take two trips to carry everything downstairs.

Sherlock waited for the taxi while John went upstairs to get the last few bags. Mary kissed him at the door, but before he left she held him with a serious expression.

"John" she said, "What you do when you are not home is your own business, but if Sherlock gets sick again, don't bring him back to my house."

John nodded and rushed off to catch the taxi.

THE END

Aless Nox


End file.
